


The Mystical Divinity of Unashamed Felinity

by Star_dancer54



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Additional Tags to Be Added, Alternate Universe - Animal Transformation, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Animalistic Behavior, Cats, Crack, Gen, Geralt has no idea what he's in for, M/M, Plot What Plot, Purring, Timeline What Timeline, cat!Jaskier, cat!fic, complete self-indulgent nonsense, fluff - literal and figurative, jaskier is a little shit no matter his form, of course Jaskier gets turned into a tomcat, so much purring and cat hair, witcher mutations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:15:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24201175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_dancer54/pseuds/Star_dancer54
Summary: It's a morning like any other when Geralt wakes up, until he discovers that Jaskier's been turned into a cat.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 14
Kudos: 74





	The Mystical Divinity of Unashamed Felinity

**Author's Note:**

> I have read a LOT of catfic over the years, and it is one of my favorite things, and this has been inspired by A LOT OF THEM (I'm thinking about adding links to them, even if they're all from different fandoms: thoughts?). I had already been planning on writing one for the Witcher (hello, what else is magic for?), but finding out that [Cats: the Musical is going to be on youtube for free for 48 hours in the US at The Shows Must Go On](https://youtu.be/TAAaq7M0aXs) just pushed me to finish at least this one part and get it posted during that time. Story title from Cats: The Musical's Jellicle Songs for Jellicle Cats. Chapter title also from Cats - Rum Tum Tugger's song. Because reasons. Yes, there is a high chance every chapter will have its title from the musical. Accept it. Also, damn near every single catlike thing Jaskier does as a cat is modeled after either one of mine over the years or Stories I Have Been Told, with some of the communication stuff loosely from the fics, mostly because bards turned into cats are kinda limited on their options. Characterization taken from all over the place (except from the games, as I've not yet played them).

_In which Geralt makes a Discovery, and looks for Assistance._

It's a morning like any other when Geralt wakes up, until he discovers that Jaskier's been turned into a cat. 

His sleep was about as peaceful as one could expect with only thin wood between his bed and a crowded inn, which is to say he slept like shit and had little tolerance for... anything really. Jaskier had come in at some ungodly hour after spending some time downstairs. He'd been playing music, and then other games, judging by the smell of the man when he stumbled into the room. After a suspicious moment of muffled movement that Geralt refused to turn and investigate, he heard the bard strip to his smallclothes and fall into the bed opposite the witcher's. Jaskier had shuffled under the pathetic blanket, shifted restlessly for a few minutes, and then before Geralt could try drifting off again the bard started to snore.

Needless to say, it took another hour or two before Geralt was able to fall asleep again.

When he wakes, it's with the first crow of a rooster and his head starting to throb. With the night he'd had, he plans to leave the bard to wake alone again and starts dressing for the day. His efforts are thwarted when he's unable to find his left boot.

He distinctly remembers having put both boots at the foot of his rented bed. He checks underneath the thing, just in case Jaskier had kicked it in his fumbles to his own bed.

Nothing.

A little growl trickles out of his throat and he stares hard at the other bed for a moment. It doesn't register that the bed looks less occupied than it had last night.

He stalks over to the other bed and kicks the closest leg of the frame, causing it to creak dangerously. 

“Jaskier. Where the fuck is my boot?”

The tangle on the bed shifts. “Prrp?”

“Bard, I am not in the mood to-” Geralt nearly chokes on his words when he yanks back the blanket to uncover not a hungover musician but...

… a mass of fur?

The furry thing squints open eyes that are a familiar shade of blue-grey and shifts. It rubs a… paw? across its face and Geralt sees whiskers and...

“Jaskier?” Geralt asks, wondering for a mad moment if he's hallucinating or still asleep. 

The cat in the bed, where the bard _should_ be, blinks at him. “Mrr?”

“You've got to be fucking joking.”

The cat is a large tom, black and brown striped and with fur so luxuriously long he looks damn near the size of a small hound. His chin and the toes of his back paws are solid white. His eyes are, as Geralt had already noticed, the same color that his human self had, and if he didn't smell exactly like Geralt's dissipated wastrel of a bard, he would wonder if Jaskier was playing some sort of trick on him.

Maybe three minutes have passed since Geralt uncovered the cat in the bard's bed, and the only thing to have changed is that the cat is now sitting up, his tail curled neatly around his paws.

Pale gold cat's eyes and smoky blue cat's eyes are locked, and after a moment the actual cat blinks. He proceeds to stand on all fours before leaning forward to stretch his hindquarters. He then drops his chest to the mattress and stretches his front legs out, his tail curling. 

Geralt feels like an idiot, but. “Jaskier?” he asks again, just to be sure.

The cat blinks, then very deliberately nods. 

“Fuck.”

Geralt very quietly panics.

After a torturous half hour that feels like an eternity, they have agreed to discuss the recent past. Geralt sums up what he knows so far, with Jaskier shaking his head or nodding.

"So you haven't been rude to any old beggar women travelling in the forest alone." A headshake. "Or eaten any food that you didn't buy yourself." Another headshake. "You also haven't had anything to drink from a suspiciously beautiful pool of water or stream." Geralt gets a sneeze and then yet another headshake for that one. "And you've not bedded and left a sorceress within the past month?" Jaskier gives him a very scornful and frankly rude stare and Geralt rolls his eyes. "What about bedding someone whose _spouse_ was a magic user?" Jaskier's glare gets harder and he lets out an indignant yowl. Geralt heaves a sigh and continues the very strange interrogation. 

The bard hasn't experienced any number of the other things that would normally account for a cursed transformation, either. The moon wasn't new or full the night before, and his birthday was still months away (not that Geralt would admit to knowing this). No one in his family had had anything similar happen to them (except for one relative that the bard refused to communicate about, turning his back to Geralt and sitting with a thump until Geralt moved on to another line of questioning), and as far as Geralt could remember, there were no magically powerful star alignments or other portents of doom within the last few weeks.

Admitting temporary defeat, Geralt begins to pack up the bard's belongings. He finally spots his own boot on the bed with Jaskier. He decides that whatever explanation the bard would have will have to wait until he has the right vocal chords to express them.

If he is able to become human again.

Geralt very firmly stuffs that thought in the back of his mind and focuses on tucking the last of Jaskier's perfumed oils into their pouch. He surveys the room, checking for anything else that needs to be put up, then looks back to the bard-cat.

“I don't know if the innkeeper will give you trouble if she sees you like this. If I lower you down with one of the bags out the window, can you keep from breaking your neck and getting lost?”

Jaskier gives him a superior glance and saunters to the open window, hopping up onto the sill. He peers down at the ground, maybe ten feet below. He then looks at the tree a few feet from the side of the inn, and before Geralt can try to grab him, he leaps out the window on to the nearest branch. The bard-in-cat-form climbs down and strolls towards the stables. Geralt can't help but think he's adapting well to being a cat, especially since the creatures are far more graceful than Jaskier ever had been. He knows he's seen the bard trip over more things than he has - had - hairs on his head, and is relieved the bard hasn't managed to break his neck yet. 

Geralt stifles a laugh, shakes his head and turns toward the door. 

After paying the last of the coin owed the innkeeper, Geralt takes their belongings out to the stable and is utterly unsurprised to see Jaskier waiting safely outside Roach's stall. The mare is craning her head down to peer at the bard. She stretches her neck as far as it will go with the stall door in the way, trying to get a sniff (or a bite) of him.

Geralt is almost in range of picking up his cat bard when the cat bard himself stands on his hind legs and, reaching out a paw, baps Roach on the nose. Knowing exactly how this sort of thing usually pans out – Roach doesn't care for _any_ animal other than Geralt unless she's eating them – he drops their gear and tries to snatch Jaskier away, but before he can get his hands on the bard the mare merely sneezes wetly on him. 

Jaskier's disgusted expression is completely worth the moment of worry. 

Geralt picks up their gear and, after nudging the disgruntled cat back, opens the stall door to start the process of preparing Roach for a day of travel. 

With his attention on the mare, he misses Jaskier's hilarious facial contortions as he starts trying to clean off the horse snot. The cat-shaped bard first tries rubbing his face on the wall, then the side of a nearby bale of hay. He sniffs in a thoughtful manner at a horse blanket hanging on the next stall door and lets out his own delicate feline sneeze. He then apparently accepts the inevitable and starts to reluctantly lick one of his front paws to wash his face as a cat does.

“We're going to Vizima,” Geralt informs the bard and the horse as he drapes Roach's pad, then her saddle on her back. “The sorceress assigned to the king's court is an acquaintance that may be willing to assist in finding a way to break this curse.” He pauses, his fingers on the saddle's girth. “I think she's still there, at least.” He glances down towards Jaskier. “We should be there in less than five days, and hopefully within a week we'll have you back to your normal shape.”

The cat pauses in his ablutions and glances up. With deliberate slowness, Jaskier blinks at him.

Geralt feels his mouth twist in something that may be a wry smile. “Thank you for your vote of confidence.”

Jaskier gives him a superior look and leaps for the beam at the top of the stall. He supervises as Geralt continues tacking Roach and then securing their belongings behind the saddle. Roach gives the cat one last sniff and then permits him to hop onto her saddle. He settles there as if he plans to stay there all day, and Geralt has to huff out a soft laugh as he leads the mare out of the stable. 

He supposes that Roach won’t mind the additional weight of a cat for a while. And even when he gets more stares than normal as he leaves the village, he lets the bard stay on the saddle. He doesn't mind if he looks like a servant leading his lord. 

They find Triss in her workroom in Vizima, and when she looks at Jaskier – imperiously riding Geralt's shoulder like a Skellige sailor's parrot – she chokes on a small laugh and gestures the pair towards one of her tables. “Tell me what happened to your bard.” 

"How-" Geralt starts, and Triss rolls her eyes.

"One of the first things we learned at Aretuza was how to read minds. And Jaskier has a very… recognizable mind."

Geralt nods in acknowledgement and starts telling her about that morning so many days ago, moving towards the table so that Jaskier can leap down. He keeps from pacing, feeling restless and as if he's still missing something. 

Triss frowns in thought. She takes some notes, brushes her hands over some of the spines of her books as if considering their contents, and thinks some more. 

Jaskier settles on the table, his paws tucked under him until they're lost in the mass of his fur. His tail lashes for a few seconds before it curls around his body. He yawns, showing small but sharp teeth. Geralt stifles a grimace; he has already learned about those teeth from when he tried to grab the bard when he didn't want to be grabbed. 

Triss finally speaks, looking between the two. “I can't think of any answers off the top of my head, Geralt, Jaskier. I can ask around and see if anyone else has any ideas about what might be going on. However, I suspect this is a curse that will have a particular key to breaking it.” She offers her hand to Jaskier to sniff, and after a moment he butts his head against her fingers, closing his eyes as she skritches the top of his head. “Your mind is still your own, from what I can tell – or at least as much as can fit in a smaller being's head. And it doesn't feel like you're losing part of yourself as time passes.” She shrugs, now scratching around Jaskier's jaw. The bard purrs rustily, clearly loving the attention. 

“So he's still himself, just... a cat.” Geralt states. He looks at the sorceress's fingers buried in the bard's fur and his fingers itch.

Triss nods. “As I said, I can contact a few mages and see if they have advice, but for now he is as he is.” She hesitates a moment, then offers, “He can stay here if you must go back onto your Path. I can keep an eye out for him here, and send a raven if anything changes.”

Jaskier... _growls_ and rears back from her hand. 

“Ooor not,” she says slowly, staring into the bard's eyes. His ears are flattened to his skull, his eyes narrowed. “It seems as if he has no intention of staying here, and has every intention of following you, Geralt.”

Geralt feels a growl in his own throat, and Jaskier turns his slitted stare to him. “It's too dangerous to travel with me. It was when he was human, and it's even more so now that he's a cat.”

Jaskier's tail lashes and Geralt finds himself in a staring contest. 

He doesn't know exactly how, but he loses.

“Fuck,” he snarls. “Fine, damn it. But if you get killed for your own stubbornness, don't you dare come crying to me.”

Jaskier's entire body relaxes and he sits up, looking smug.

“But we are taking some _precautions_ , Bard.” 

Jaskier sneezes.

“I have an idea that might help,” Triss says, digging through the shelves nearest her. She offers a small pendant, smaller than the tip of Geralt's forefinger. “I'll need something of you, Jaskier. You as well, Geralt.” 

After a slight hesitation, Geralt gives her some hair from his head. He frowns down at Jaskier. Would some of his fur work…?

The bard tilts his head for a moment, then starts gnawing at one of the toes on his left front paw.

“What's he-” Geralt starts, but stops when the bard spits out the worn sheath of a claw. 

“Thank you, that will do nicely.” Triss scoops up the piece of his claw and takes it to her alchemy table. “I won't be long. If you'd like, you can request some food from the servants.” She nods towards a bell pull beside one of the bookcases.

Time passes quickly, especially once the food arrives. Jaskier is commencing his wash-up, no longer making a disgruntled face at every lick. Geralt is watching the process as if mesmerized when Triss finishes her spellcasting. She has charged the pendant and a heftier medallion, and looks around for a moment before finding a scrap of dark silk and a cord to hang them on. She offers the medallion and cord to Geralt to hang from his own neck and the silk and pendant to Jaskier to investigate.

“These will alert you if Jaskier's heartbeat goes above a certain level. And they'll act like compasses and lodestones for each other if you get separated.” She pauses, and Jaskier raises his head to let her gently fasten it around his neck. “If something tugs on this too hard, though, it will slip apart to keep from strangling you,” she tells Jaskier. “If that happens, you'll need to get it back to Geralt so he can reattach it.” 

Jaskier nods. He hesitates, then touches his nose to her hand. 

“You're welcome,” Triss says, smiling. “Just be as careful as you can be,” she glances up to Geralt and continues, “and if something happens, put some of your blood on one of them and focus on my name until you hear a bell ring - that means I've heard the call. I will come as quickly as possible.” 

Geralt feels a tightness in his shoulders he hadn't noticed until now ease. “Thank you,” he says.

Triss reaches towards him and he gladly clasps her forearm, feeling her do the same with an affectionate squeeze. “Good luck, and may the gods smile upon you.”

Geralt stifles a grimace, but responds, “And the same to you.” He releases his hold on her and offers his arm to Jaskier. The bard leaps from the table to the witcher, easily climbing to his shoulder and wrapping his fluffy tail around Geralt's neck.

As they leave the mage's quarters, Jaskier rubs his face against Geralt's ear, purring softly. Geralt pushes his head back against the bard gently enough to not dislodge him.

“There are contracts for drowners all along Lake Vizima's shore. We can camp or stay at one of the nearby inns.” Jaskier pointedly baps his ear. “Camping it is.” The bard bites his ear, and Geralt feels his mouth twitch in a smile.


End file.
